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The row of interview rooms for private meetings was short and no less gray. Their progression stopped at the door marked with a number two. There was a very small window in the door for peering inside, but she opted not to look. She did not want the man waiting there to catch her taking a peek at him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“The panic button is under your side of the table on the right, ma’am,” the taller of the two guards explained. “He’s in full shackles, which are secured to the floor. He won’t be able to reach all the way across the table, but he can raise his hands and reach a few inches. You should not lean across the table or approach him in any manner.”

“Got it.” Vera’s heart pounded. Her entire body had gone numb and on high alert with the flood of adrenaline roaring through her.

Eric reached out and squeezed her upper arm. “Don’t let him get to you.”

She gave her friend a nod, then turned to the guard who’d spoken. “I’m ready.”

He unlocked the door and opened it. Vera walked in, her heels clicking on the polished tile. The room was more beige than gray. An equally beige table sat in the center, a generic chair on either side.

Dr. Palmer Solomon sat on the side farthest from the door. He smiled at her as the door closed with a solid thud, then the lock slid into place.

“Hello, Vera.”

She gave him time to look her up and down before she crossed to the table and pulled out her chair. “Hello, Dr. Solomon.” She sat down and stared at him. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure to see you again, but it’s not, so I won’t pretend.”

“The pleasure is all mine then.” He inhaled a deep breath, as if attempting to draw in her scent.

She’d spritzed on just a little of the perfume she’d always worn whenever she bothered. Soft, subtle, just a hint of citrus. “Let’s get straight to it. After all this time, why now?”

It was a simple question. He’d had a dozen years to reach out for revenge. Why wait so long? Had the news that he was dying prompted the need? Or was it because he knew she was closer, geographically speaking? She felt sure he’d kept up with her. Relished the tragedy that ended her career in Memphis, no doubt. Anger bled into the adrenaline pulsing inside her.Bastard.

“I’m sure you’re aware,” he said, “that I have only a very short time to live.”

He really didn’t look like a dying man—just thinner, wearier maybe. As much as it chafed her to say, he remained quite handsome—as killers went. His hair was that white color so envied by those who didn’t have it as they reached later life. Gray eyes still clear and attentive. Fewer wrinkles than your average seventy-two-year-old. Obviously, until his illness stopped him, he had stayed physically fit. But those details were fading. The cancer was stealing all the strength and vitality from his body, and there was not a damned thing he could do.

The thought made her inordinately happy.

“Yes,” she said, “I heard. If you expect sympathy, you’re looking in the wrong place.” The images of all those women he had killed flashed one after the other before her eyes.

“I saw you on the news this morning. They allow me to have a television. Did you know that? It’s one of the benefits of cooperating with the FBI from time to time.” He chuckled as if the idea were quite funny. “Advice from a serial killer is a very marketable commodity.”

“Then you know why I’m here.” She repositioned in her chair so she could cross one leg over the other.

He watched the move with interest. “I knew you would come.” His gaze shifted to hers. “As soon as I heard what was happening, I was worried about you.”

Vera laughed out loud. “Of course you were.”

He leaned forward. Chains rattled. “I’m quite serious, Vera. I am very worried about your safety, as well as your sister’s.”

A new burn of fury blazed inside her. “If you hurt my sister ...” She dared him by leaning forward the tiniest bit, as if to meet him in the middle, and lowering her voice to a whisper. “I will find a way to make your last days a living hell.”

That he watched the movement of her lips so intensely was unnerving and yet satisfying. He was still intrigued by her, which meant, she hoped, that he would play along. Perhaps make a mistake.

“I would never hurt your sister,” he said, drawing back, his respiration a little faster than before.

She drew back as well. “I don’t have time for games, Palmer.” He liked when she called him Palmer. In fact, while he held her captive, he’d insisted she use his given name. “Tell me who’s doing this, or just call them off. I can live with either choice.”

“He has been watching you, Vera. For months. He knows where you live. Where your sisters live. What you do and who you do it with.”

Outrage mounting, she gritted her teeth for a moment to prevent the wrong words from erupting. “Tell me,” she said as calmly as theemotional whirlwind inside her would allow, “who did you send to do this?”

He leaned forward again. “He knows all your secrets. He’s studied you so closely. Even I was impressed. He knows how to hurt you, and he won’t stop until he has done the most damage possible.”

She barely restrained herself from lunging across the table and shaking the truth out of him. If she had a gun, she would shove it hard into that soft place beneath his chin and blow his fucking head off.

“Who is it?” she repeated.